


the weight of dreams

by sunyeollie



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Light Angst, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-03
Updated: 2018-04-03
Packaged: 2019-04-17 22:17:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14198844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunyeollie/pseuds/sunyeollie
Summary: Jongdae yearns for home, for love, for absolution; and Chanyeol only falls, rapidly and continuously.





	the weight of dreams

**Author's Note:**

> **PROMPT #9**  
>    
>  **A/N:** Hello! Uh... So this is actually my first time participating in a fest as well as writing a chenyeol fic. Please be kind??? Prompter, agshjsks I hope you like this little dittle. Your prompt was really interesting and when I read it I just knew I had to write something based on that. It also reminded me of a favorite poem and a certain book so all the more reason to claim. I severely hope I was able to give it justice (but i'm a mediocre writer so heh sorry.)  
>  Mods, thank you for hosting this fest and being so accomodating especially when I asked for an extension.  
>  Ness + India, you guyssss thank you so much for looking over, brainstorming with me, and letting me blab while having a mini crisis about this piece. TTuTT  
>    
>  PS: When you read this fic, remember that the normal passage of time is irrelevant. 

 

 

> _You are a child of the universe,_  
>  _no less than the trees and the stars;_  
>  _you have a right to be here._  
>  _And whether or not it is clear to you,_  
>  _no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should._  
>  \- Desiderata by Max Ehrmann

 

 

 

Once upon a time, when magic was still thick in the air and ancient powers seeped out like water from the flooded soil, there was a star who loved the earth so deeply it chose to fall from the kingdom above.

 

 

 

 

 

“Son, look around you.” His father gestured at the small villages, the sprawling rivers, the thick forests, and rising mountains below them, “Once you’ve finished your education you’ll be helping me oversee this world. And one day, when I have grown weary, when I finally yearn for an idyllic existence, you will be the one I’ll choose to take my place and sit on that dais.”

His father turned to him, brown shaggy locks illuminated by the yellow sun. He looked not a day past five and twenty, small eyes crinkled as he smiled down on his son. “You, my little light, will be their king and their god. One day you will have Elysion in your palms, you will be its protector and its master.”

Whatever protest he was mustering died on his lips, his father was looking at him with that stern gaze beneath the layer of unassuming gentility. The one that was not open to brook any further discussion, for any argument. The king has said his piece and he wouldn’t listen.

He bowed his head, eyes downcast as he murmured a grudging assent. “Yes, father.”

The son could taste the bitterness of expectation, thick and heavy within, and he knew it was going to last for years to come. It slithered within him, coiling hard and tight, a constant murmur to remind him of what he’s groomed to be.

Above them a phoenix flew, just a small trail of red and purple that looked down on the two of the most powerful beings under it. It tittered, half a melody and half a greeting, for his father who joyously waved the creature away. For half a heartbeat, he considered the life of a bird.

Free. Insignificant. Fleeting. Impossible.

“Forgive me but I can’t do this father. I don’t want to be a king.” The words left his mouth. “This is not my place.”

 

 

 

 

 

“You are my heir.” His father was screaming, the remains of broken marble gargoyles a pile of fine white dust on the floor. “You _must_ do your duty!”

Rain was pouring in large fat drops of icy water, the rivers making the riverbed swollen, and the sun had yet to show his radiant face. Dark and gloomy the storm raged on. Above them. Around them.

He remembered the stricken faces of his uncles. Yixing uselessly trying to calm down his seething father and Baekhyun watching him with grim countenance. Both their gazes a mirror of disappointment.

He was running now. Breaths coming out in ragged pants as perspiration bead his forehead. His legs begged for relief, his mouth aching for water.

Running away.

Running far not willing to look back.

“This is your duty!” The king’s voice echoed, hollow.

The flowers yelped and shouted underneath his feet, their feeble dying voices affronted and uttering curses.

“You will obey!” His father had shouted. “Mark my words! You will return and you will be punished for this disobedience.”

The gate was cold to the touch. It was a tall piece of wood, mahogany if he remembered right. Carved to illustrate the element of his father, water, and painted with the prism colors of the sea. He pushed it open, hand trembling at the effort, or is it excitement? Freedom is at the edge of his vision, within the reach of his fingertips. He could not stop now. He wouldn’t.

Cautious footsteps sounded behind him and he whirled around, terrified at being caught.

Silence.

“U-uncle."

 

 

 

 

 

“If you walk out that door you can never come back.”

Silence.

“Do you understand what you’ll be leaving behind? This is folly, you--”

“Uncle stop! I’m…” A sigh filled with sorrow. “I’m sorry uncle but I have to… I just. I can’t stay here. Father expects me to take up the mantle once he’s grown tired but we both know it’s never coming to pass. Father has grown fond of his power, he can never relinquish it. Not if he he has a reason to, and he always will have one.”

“But must you leave? Do you understand what you’re leaving behind? Do you understand what happens to those who leave?”

“This is the only way. Father only wants me nearby so he can monitor what I do--I can’t bear this anymore. Uncle, please, the universe is calling for me. Adventures and new things to discover. A place where no one would expect me to be anything. Not a king. Not a ruler. A place for me to be _happy._ I. I have to go, I have to try and find myself out there.”

Another sigh, this time it oozed with resignation and weariness.

“Go on then. Leave before Junmyeon hyung recovers and hears of your departure.”

Footsteps echoed, getting fainter by the second.

“Nephew… I hope you know what you’re doing.”

 

 

 

 

 

The mahogany doors opened wide, bright lights dancing around in a blinding spectacle of vibrancy, and then with a single misstep he was falling down to absolute darkness.

Falling.

Falling.

_Fallen._

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Mother?” He could taste the remnants of ash on his lips and the metal on his tongue. His left arm feels numb, a warm sticky wetness was clinging to it. “Father?”

Only the silence of the starless night greeted him. Looming shadows of the trees surrounded him, willowy and tall and plenty. The forest was empty, no animals in sight.

He blinked as the sudden breeze rustled his damp locks, the chill of it nipping at his exposed flesh. He struggled to rise, soot and ash falling away from his grey tattered robes, the soles of his feet disturbing the dead blackened earth underneath. Shifting it and ruining the indentation his body made when he fell.

He blinked again at a loss of what he’ll do next.

Then, the sound of footsteps were rushing towards him and for half a heartbeat panic made its way to Jongdae’s heart. He considered running until the figure tall, lanky, and half dressed appeared in his line of sight.

“Oi! Are you alright?” The man stops in front of him, tall  with broad shoulders and worried expression. “You're not hurt, are you?”

The stranger looked kind, his softness accentuated only by the billowing of his tunic and the looseness of his breeches. He had a pair of wide brown eyes and the toothiest mouth he had ever seen. It should look unnerving, rows of even teeth bared at him in shock, but whatever intimidation falls short when the tall stranger begin fussing over him. The stranger’s deep baritone mouthing worried litanies that escape his pink plush mouth. A mouth that looked soft, that looked quite inviting.

He absently rubbed at his chest, wondering at the sudden furious pitter patter of his heart. It’s a foreign sensation, something nice but inexplicable.

“Oh no! Y-you’re bleeding! Come with me.” The man gestured at him. “We need to check out that wound. Doesn’t seem to be deep but it’s better to be safe right?”

He merely nodded, still at a loss of his situation. Where was he? Who is this man?

“Ah, sorry I forgot to introduce myself. I’m Chanyeol and I live near the border. It’s just over there.” The man, Chanyeol, informs him, one of his large hands holding on to his uninjured arm. “I was about to gather firewood when I saw you lying unconscious over there. You scared me, no one else is allowed to go past here after all.”

“Here? Wha--I. Where _?”_

“Yeah. Right there.”

He looked at where Chanyeol pointed and his eyes widened. A couple paces away was a huge hollow and blackened ground just a little over six foot in diameter. The grass within was dust and the flowers nonexistent; but beyond that circle of soot and death nature surprisingly flourished. Blades of grass a deep verdant, smattering of scarlets and indigos of wild flowers sprawling all around the clearing, healthy and abundant, but never quite trespassing the isolated track.

“That’s where shooting stars usually fall.” Chanyeol continued, not quite paying attention to the tumultuous expression of his self proclaimed patient. “Just be glad it's not that time of the year yet, else I could've been gathering just your bones.”

He gawked at Chanyeol, confusion etched on his soot covered face.

“So. Who are you? How come you’re taking a nap here? Were you taking a nap?” The man asked him, deep baritone full of wonder. Chanyeol’s eyes were wide brown pair that glitter. He absently wondered if there’s another galaxy inside them. If that is even possible. Maybe.

He blinked, taking in the waiting expression on the stranger’s kind face. Oh yeah, he asked something. What was--

“I wasn't _napping._ I’m… I.” He scowled in frustration, mind racing a mile a minute. His memory was foggy and frayed at the edges but he knew what he was. He also knew what this other person was. Instinct halted his tongue from divulging more. “I don’t know. I don’t remember.”

Chanyeol looked at him, measured gaze bare of any accusation.

 _He knows I’m lying._ The urge to squirm and run away bubbled inside. _He knows, I have to leave--_

“Hm. Okay. Come with me, I have a good ointment for your wound. Made it myself and used it more times than normal so I know how effective it can be.”

Chanyeol gave him another reassuring smile, one that was as bright as it was warm, and he mused idly that perhaps the sun had been hiding in Earth after all.

 

 

 

 

 

Chanyeol's cabin was small, circular, and crowded. Odd assortments of bits and pieces filled the tiny space. Colorful stones in a glass jar, basket overflowing with half finished knitted scarves, wood carvings of various animals. A tiny owl, a chubby bunny, a couple dogs surrounding a sleeping bear, and one cat cuddling with what looked like a sheep.

There're paper cranes too, tens of them hanging on one of the windows with inked geometrical and squiggly designs. A group of tiny paper birds swaying at the gentle breeze and illuminated by the controlled fire in the hearth.

It was a tiny space with a small corner for cooking and washing; one table was propped up near the window, and a medium sized bed looking less than inviting was by the hearth. It was a little too warm inside. It was a warmth like no other.

 

 

 

 

 

“I’m… I’m Jongdae.”

 

 

 

 

 

“Nice to meet you, Jongdae-ssi.” Chanyeol looked up from his perusing of herbs and ointment jars. He glanced at Jongdae and nodded, his face breaking in a wide sunny smile.

“You should stop that.”

“Stop what?”

“Smiling.”

Chanyeol’s expression fell, eyes dimming, a sniffle making his voice quiver. “You don’t like my smile? I’m sorry, I won’t do it again.”

“I. No. No, I like your smiles. You look radiant. Just don’t smile so wide, not that big.” Jongdae patted Chanyeol’s cheeks, ignoring the urge to lean in and press their foreheads together. Ignoring the way his touch lingered an the way Chanyeol leaned in to his touch. “My chest goes all warm and tittery when you smile. It’s making it a little difficult to breathe.”

“Oh.” Chanyeol’s eyes widened, red blooming on the apples of his cheeks. _“Oh.”_

Jongdae swallowed, eyes falling to the pursed strawberry red of Chanyeol’s lips. Wondering how they could suddenly look so delectable. He looked away chiding himself.

 

 

 

 

 

“There!” Chanyeol patted his arm gently. “All wrapped up, you just need to keep it clean and the wound will heal in no time. My medicine is the best, it doesn't even sting right?”

Jongdae nodded, the salve was indeed stingless and quite soothing despite its odd purplish color hue. “Thank you.” He murmured, conscious of how attentive Chanyeol was.

“Do you recall anything now? Do you have a place to stay?”

“...no. I. I don't even know where I am.”

“Why don't you stay with me? For a while at least, until your wound heals… Some company is appreciated.”

 

 

 

 

 

Chanyeol's lonely.

That's the only valid explanation for inviting a stranger into one’s home, sharing your food, and even the bed you sleep in. That's the only reason because kindness without return was not something Jongdae believes in. There's always a price. Chanyeol longs for another person's company, craved for it like a bear would want his honey.

Jongdae noticed it three days into his stay. The wound, a tiny little cut had long since healed then. Quick to heal because of Chanyeol’s herbs and ointment, or perhaps it's because of the hidden fact that Jongdae was something more than human.

Chanyeol was an unobtrusive but attentive host.

He would leave even before daybreak to hunt and gather food, Jongdae watching the other leave and wait for him to come back a little before lunch with various greens and fish. Sometimes a skinned rabbit or an odd bird would be clutched between Chanyeol’s large gentle hands. Chanyeol would show them to him, like a boy waiting for kindly praise, and then Chanyeol would eagerly proceed to cook them a hearty meal. He would tell Jongdae how to prepare the ingredients and shows him how to cook them. It's not unlike having an over enthusiastic teacher.

Mid afternoon until early evening would then find them moving in the same but distanced space. Chanyeol would work in the house, doing repairs or adding more paper cranes to hung on his window. Most times he would be on the yard cutting logs and drying them or stacking the cut up timbers.

Meanwhile Jongdae would favor tucking himself inside the small and cluttered house. He’d explore and analyze the tiny crafts Chanyeol would make. Strum the odd instrument in the corner, flip the journals filled only with scribbles and doodles of what appeared to be flowers. There was no book to read nor anything else to pass time with.

He’d been house sitting, as Chanyeol called it, merely going out to wash himself by water taken from the nearby well or perhaps watch the setting sun. It was a boring predictable existence and not the one that Jongdae imagined he would have down on Earth. There was freedom and along with it was the seed of unrest.

Days passed him by, idyllic. Days that turned into weeks and turned into months. The moon waxed and waned, the tide rose and fell. Spring sheds her veil to let the scorch of Summer in. Leaves of verdant curled softly into brighter shade and fades into shade of summer under the golden sun.

Jongdae would’ve left immediately if it was another person who took him in. He would've licked his wounds, lay low for a bit, and then fled to see the Earth he yearned to discover. Maybe.

Chanyeol was a mere mortal and for a god as old as Jongdae, there was nothing spectacularly different about Chanyeol. Sure he was a little taller, a little more naive, quite handsome under a certain light, and he does make Jongdae feel all warm and gooey when their eyes would meet. But. Chanyeol was mortal, a human, and Jongdae knew the latter’s existence was but a mere second to his eternity. And yet, there's something fetching about Chanyeol. He’s like a nectar and Jongdae was the bee that arduously covets Chanyeol's tart sweetness.

Jongdae didn't know why this mortal made him feel this way. He didn't know why Chanyeol makes his heart beat steady while blood would rise to his face. Didn't know why a mere smile, a simple offer of bread, nor the sound of Chanyeol's snores could make a curious tender warmth bloom in his chest. Jongdae didn't understand and he found himself wanting to.

 

 

 

 

 

“Have you ever seen the sea?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me about it, please?”

“It's just a huge body of water. Nothing grand.”

Water made Jongdae feel uncomfortable, running water especially. They have eyes, a gaze that carries the weight of his father's wrath.

“I want to go on a sea voyage one day. Maybe next spring, you can come with me if you like.”

Jongdae pauses from sharpening his knife, it was made of bone and Chanyeol had taught him how to fashion it. It still looks crude and blunt but with a little more effort it would be a good tool. “And pray tell, where would our charming star go? The land of the fairies? What was it called? Neverland?”

“Sh-shut up!” Chanyeol swats his arm flustered. The giant huffed before turning away. “That was one time! I didn't know the kids were just teasing me.”

“They're always teasing you.” Jongdae sniggers before rising from his seat and curling an arm to Chanyeol’s waist. “You know, you’re pretty cute when you’re around kids.”

Chanyeol squirms within his embrace, the tips of his ears scarlet and all thoughts of the sea and journeys forgotten.

 

 

 

 

 

“I… I’m probably in love with you.”

 

 

 

 

 

“That's alright Chanyeol-ah, I think I am in love with you too.”

 

 

 

 

 

“The stars are beautiful, aren’t they?” Chanyeol pointed at the constellations above them. Fingers tracing as he named them, voice sure with the knowledge of the skies etched deep into his mind. Into his bones.

Jongdae watched him, intently committing every feature of his companion. The lone mole at his nose, the two at his right cheek. The way the strands of hair, dark as charcoal, swayed like youth dancing timidly. The way Chanyeol’s deep voice overflows with the promise of a future, a home, as he lists down constellations and planets.

He stared and listens and wonders. How long do they have? How long does _he_ have? How long before this--

“Hey, are you listening?”

Jongdae grins and raised his hand to smooth the furrow of Chanyeol’s brows. He wanted to give him a kiss, something chaste and sweet. Something dirty and long. He nods instead, thumb and forefinger sliding down to pinch Chanyeol’s nose and delighting in Chanyeol’s startled yelp.

The night is young, with the scent of summer dancing beyond their reach and time trickling by in languid drops. They still have time. He still has time.

“They’re not as beautiful as you.” Jongdae hides behind his snickers, sentiments burrowing deeper somewhere Chanyeol can’t see. He gave another impish grin, sharp eyes forming into crescent moons upon Chanyeol’s faux exasperation as crimson bloomed on the apples of Chanyeol’s cheeks. His eyes, Jongdae knows, were bright with the glitter of affection and his cheeks a mirror to Chanyeol’s reddened ones.

It feels kind, this monotony between them. Not dull or stretching too long but a timid burgeoning of routine. One that is yearned for. At least, one that Jongdae hopes to have for a very long time.

Beside him Chanyeol sits primly, legs tucked to his chest and his wiry arms wrapped around it. There’s a shyness in Chanyeol’s posture, long lived and impossible to remove at once. There’s a history there, one Jongdae has yet to hear. One Chanyeol doesn't seem to want to share, not yet.

Jongdae watches the other’s hand bunching the hem of his ratty pants, Chanyeol’s long dexterous fingers curling at the hem of its rough spun fabric and playing with one of its holes. A nervous tick.

“S-stop saying things like that.” Chanyeol rubbed his nose to his knees, eyes not quite meeting Jongdae’s and the tips of his ears pinking, the flush spreading from his nape to his jaw.

“Like what?” Jongdae retorted impishly, a soft smile pulling his lips wider. He likes this banter of sorts, playful flirting maybe. He likes teasing Chanyeol a little too much.

“Like.” Chanyeol gestures wildly. “You know.” His voice lowers to a whisper. “Words that doesn’t make sense. At least not to me. You’re quite confusing Jongdae. I wish you’ll just tell it to me straight rather than going in circles. I’m. I’m not bright you know. I’m just a poor woodsman who doesn’t know how to do his letters.”

There’s a furrowing of brows again, a jutting of pouty lips, and Jongdae was laughing in kind amusement despite the brief pinching at his heart upon Chanyeol’s self deprecating words. After all, what is knowledge when the heart is nothing but darkness?

“You’re so cute when you’re flustered Chanyeol,” he gathers the other man into his arm, “and in my eyes you will always be the brightest. Even brighter than all the stars up there.” Jongdae presses the heel of his hand to Chanyeol’s cheek coaxing Chanyeol to face him. “You're fascinatingly sweet too. Makes me want to stay forever with you.”

Chanyeol’s skin was warm under the pads of his fingers, a hushed ember that spike intermittently under his caress. His lips were even sweeter, the faded taste of mint and lamb overpowered by Chanyeol’s soft mouth and breathy sighs.

Jongdae kissed him gently, nibbling at Chanyeol’s lower lip where it’s most plush. Licking into Chanyeol’s mouth and exploring, memorizing just how to coax out the needy moans and pleasured sighs. He likes the way Chanyeol becomes pliant under his hold, becoming putty with just a little dose of affection. Jondae adores Chanyeol a lot.

For him, Chanyeol is the combination of warmth and everything good in the world tucked into a very tall and gentle person. Chanyeol leans into him, thyme and linseed oils wafting from his tunic, the scent Jongdae now associated with home; and Jongdae could feel the profound weight of ice lodging deep in his chest.

He wants this moment, this serenity of love, to last just a little longer.

He wants.

He wishes.

He _prays._

 

 

 

 

 

Jongdae slips one day.

He slips while picking dandelions and some of those reddish tubers that Chanyeol loves. The one that taste faintly of minty peanuts that he pretends to dislike just so he could see Chanyeol stuff himself full with it. It was a dainty fall, he merely tripped on some rock and stepped on a muddy patch. Nothing alarming but for the skin of his left leg scraping against some jagged rocks nearby. His flesh opened and the wound bleeds a little too much and a little too fast. The red liquid was stark against his pale flesh but it was the white hot flashes of pain that stucked him unmoving, caused his legs to feel like liquid.

There was only one conclusion to the sensation of pain he’s feeling. He’s stayed too far and too long away from home that the Earth has slowly but surely seeped itself from his skin, his bones. Seeped into his blood and was changing him turning him human.

_I have to leave._

 

 

 

 

 

“I truly want to travel someday.” Chanyeol told him one night over the sweetened mead and bites of cheese. “I want to climb mountains and cross rivers. I want to meet a lot of people, see how they live, see how they flourish. I want to leave this place and see the world.”

“You will.”

“Will you come with me?”

“I.” Jongdae hesitates, understands that the anchor tied to his feet weighs him down forever. Impossible to remove, impossible to discard. He breathes in, lung expanding for all the oxygen until it couldn’t anymore.

“Jongdae..?”

He breathed out, the heavy weight of disappointment lingering.

“Yes, I promise I’ll go with you.”

Chanyeol's bright smile was beautiful and Jongdae wondered how long can he give his little white lies and empty promises before this serendipity gets shattered.

_Not too long now._

 

 

 

 

 

“I wonder what’ll happen if we ever get separated.”

“Why are you thinking such morbid thoughts.”

“It’s nothing. I just… Finding you was the best thing that ever happened to me.”

Jongdae pecked Chanyeol's nose. “I feel the same.”

“And I can't help but wonder… If we get separated do you think we’ll be the same? Do you think we’ll move on? Do you think we’ll keep waiting for each other? Because I--”

“I’ll find you.”

“What?” Chanyeol scratches his nape, uncertainty dancing in his eyes.

“I’ll find you, wherever you are.” Jongdae holds his hands, thumb rubbing Chanyeol’s knuckles. “I’ll always find my way back to you Chanyeol. You’re my home.”

“Hmm. That’s a nice sentiment, Dae. I don’t think that’s possible though, we’re only human. Our lives are but a blink in our gods’ eyes.”

“Yeah.” Jongdae swallows, voice coming out thick with lies. “Humans.”

 

 

 

 

 

“Who are you?” Chanyeol asks him one autumn night. It was dark and silent, the breeze outside was nippy but the hearth is filled with steady heat.

Jongdae pauses from putting another piece of dried wood, nerves roaring in tandem with the dancing firelight. “What?” He giggles a little, tries to be nonchalant. He'd noticed the measured stares  before of course, they have grown constant and lingering lately. “Why are you asking that now?”

“Answer me.”

Jongdae returns to their cot, a toasty fortress of blankets, cotton and, warm long limbed giant puppy. Jongdae tries to hold him, arms snaking on Chanyeol’s middle and his lips about to land on the mole on Chanyeol’s nose. Jongdae wanted to cuddle him but Chanyeol flinches upon his touch. “Please, I need you to tell me the truth.”

“I…” Jongdae takes him in, eyes drinking in Chanyeol wariness and nervousness. He takes in the way Chanyeol’s eyes wouldn't meet his own. He takes and he feels confused disappointment, feels his heart break at this tiny push. Chanyeol shouldn't fear him, there's nothing to fear. Jongdae struggles to hide the frown hanging off his lips.

“You're never really gonna tell me, are you?” Chanyeol doesn't look at him, eyes lowered somewhere to Jongdae's right and his body looking as fragile as the blown glass Chanyeol had taken home last week. It was a pretty little thing given by on of the old grandmas down the village. He half filled with water and put specially hand picked wild flowers, fragrant blossoms Chanyeol would change daily. “You didn’t think I would notice? Do you… Do you even know how long you’ve been living with me?”

Gods have no care for the concept of  time and like this Jongdae had no answer. He has no words to spill, especially not for the questions that Chanyeol doesn't ask. “No.” He says weakly.

“Five.” Chanyeol mumbles. “You’ve stayed here for five years.”

 _It felt like days._ Jongdae muses, his hands going slack and mouth falling open. _It felt too short._

“You haven't changed, I thought it was just because I’ve seen you everyday that I didn't notice the changes. But you…” Chanyeol swallows, hunches further to himself and Jongdae had to strain to hear the words he murmurs next. “--saw the rest of the village and realized. Jongdae, y-you're not aging.”

There was a pause, silence broken only by the crackle of fire and their deepening breaths.

_“Please?”_

“I’m the lightning god and I ran away.” He reaches for Chanyeol’s hand, intertwines their fingers. Chanyeol’s hand, bigger and wider, had always been warm but it's cold and shaking now. Jongdae holds on tight, opens his mouth and tells Chanyeol his story in fragmented parts, the parts that matters. The one that he can say without the weight of lies bearing down on him.

“When will you leave?” Chanyeol asks him at the end of his tale. “Now that I know your secret I know you're bound to leave me behind. Go back to your home.”

“I may be a god but I have no other home but you.” Jongdae, slowly as if reaching for an injured kitten, scoots closer and cups Chanyeol's face. There were tears unshed, making his wide hazel eyes shine bright and sad. “Ask me to stay.”

Chanyeol remains mute, his eyes beseeching and lovely and filled with longing. Like he wanted Jongdae to swoop in and kiss him senseless, murmur promises of tender roughness, perhaps trace patterns of impossible future on his skin.

 _Or perhaps,_ Jongdae muses as he leans in, close and closer until the fog of their breaths mingled, _I am just projecting my selfish will?_

Chanyeol’s hesitant but responsive kiss was permission, his urgent touches and breathy pleas were answer enough.

 

 

 

 

 

 _Ask me to stay,_ Jongdae had said earlier. _Ask me and I will._

Instead Chanyeol looked up at him, not in panic or relief, but in a resigned acceptance.

 _He thinks I’ll still leave even if he asks. I don’t want to leave,_ Jongdae realized. _I don’t want to leave him. Not this lifetime, not the ones after it._

“Ask me to stay.” He whispers, he begs.

“You can stay.” Chanyeol only looks at him. Skin glistening with a thin layer of sweat and mouth the red of ravished strawberries. The thin blanket was barely covering Chanyeol’s chest, leaving in plain view the scratches and half moon marks of Jongdae’s fingernails. He looks delectable and Jongdae furiously tried to tamped down the hunger rising in his gut, the blood pooling south.

Chanyeol was not supposed to be this tempting.

“You can stay,” Chanyeol repeats and Jongdae, unbidden warmth blooming in his heart, surges back to him. He grabs Chanyeol’s nape, fingers curling at his hair and gives him a bruising kiss. Their lips slotting against each other and their bodies intertwining in ways two men shouldn’t.

_But I’m not a man, and Chanyeol is. He is..._

Chanyeol tastes floral under the salt and ash of sorrow, and Jongdae decides that he’s in love with Chanyeol's softness as well as his coarseness. He’s in love with the silence of Chanyeol’s worries and the loudness of Chanyeol’s dreams. He’s in love with the ugliness of Chanyeol’s tear stained cheeks. He’s in love with the beauty of Chanyeol’s recently awoken face. He’s in love with every part of Chanyeol.

He’s in love.

 _Oh._ Jongdae realizes the gravity of his choice, with Chanyeol's ragged moans and the sound of skin slapping against skin reverberating in their cabin, as heat and sweat and pleasure mounting between them. He realizes and Jongdae still chose to love Chanyeol. _Father won’t be pleased._

 

 

 

 

 

It was a beautiful sunny day.

Birds were flying high, the grasses swaying with the caress of a gentle wind. The clouds looked a little pregnant with water but Chanyeol had been laughing, his baritone voice like music of love in Jongdae's ears. Red dusting the apples of Chanyeol’s cheek and crinkles forming the corner of his eyes. He looked beautiful, a visage Jongdae knew would last for more than a millennia in his mind.

They were out to check and gather the traps Chanyeol had lain the day before. There was a rumor of wild boars roaming around the foot of the mountain and Chanyeol, ever a delightful eater as he was a cook, was eager to set out and hunt. Jongdae had been enamored to be complacent enough to tag along.

It was a beautiful day, and it would've stayed that way if Jongdae stuck to house sitting. rather than join Chanyeol in checking over traps he took no part of setting up.

There was a misstep, a well hidden rope he didn't see. One moment Jongdae had been looking at Chanyeol bent over fixing a string and the next there was a dulled pain on his abdomen. His hands touches his chest in puzzlement, groping at the odd wooden protrusion and falling away filled with red. Jongdae blinks, patches of black entering his vision. Darkness pulls him, Chanyeol’s name a faint whisper of his breath.

 

 

 

 

 

“You’re going to be okay!”

A shadow fell across him and cold gripped the edges of his consciousness. His body felt light, almost as if he was weightless and any second now he would fly into oblivion.

That doesn’t sound so bad.

“Please,” the man urged, his voice a thread away from breaking. There’s a desperation in his tone, a foreboding sense of worry and terror. “Jongdae please stay awake. Stay with me.”

“Chanyeol.” He coughed, the taste of blood on his tongue and regrets on his bone harsher than anything he’s ever felt. There’s a deep wound all over his torso, a hollowness where his heart and lungs should be. “It’s. It’s okay.” He continued, hand weakly wiping off the unstoppable tears on Chanyeol’s cheeks. “Don’t cry, I’m going to be okay.”

“It’s my fault. If only I didn’t--”

“Don’t blame yourself. It’s alright.”

Chanyeol only cried harder, his lips trembling and eyes glued to the hands pressing down on Jongdae’s wound. Blood had soaked the fabric of his shirt, red and dark it pooled on the ground. Raining a slowly congealing blob on the uneven patch of grass and stones.

Every breath Jongdae took was an effort, his voice coming out raspy as his lungs failed to expand and house the much needed oxygen properly. It’s still summer, and yet he felt impossibly cold.

“Don’t cry,” he murmurs again despite the crippling ache of his heart.

A few paces away a rip formed where air used to be, like the very fabric of the universe was torn apart. Two figures emerged, humanoid and astoundingly beautiful. They were glowing, a muted aura of golden light surrounding them.

Behind Chanyeol the two human shaped shadows crept closer. The flurry of robes swishing and the jingle of various ornaments on their attire and hair carried over with each steps. Brown long tresses and blond curly locks both in an elaborate updo, slim figures swallowed by the royal blue and peach pink silken clothes. There’s a ripple in the air around then, an energy of displaced magic and power.

Jongdae’s eyes widened and he struggled to sit up, weak hands clutching tight on Chanyeol’s trembling shoulders. Strength was leaving him, evident in the barely there wince of Chanyeol when Jongdae gripped his arm.

“Just calm down. Let me handle it,” a mild voice intoned, it’s owner the pale slim statured man with droopy eyes and lilting voice. Brunette and pretty, youth on his face and majesty on his stance

“Calm down? Why would I when he--” the other man, chin up and ire in his eyes responded. He’s blond and proud, a certain purse in his thin lips belying exasperation.

“Shhh.” The first one cut him off with a slight pat. “Lower your voice Baekhyun.”

Baekhyun looked like he wants to protest but a glare cut him off. The two figure approaches them unhurriedly.

Jongdae closes his eyes as a brief and unbearable flare of pain attacking his temple. Thoughts of lightning and rain assaulting his weak mind. Memories of twilight and herbal tea, of a wooden knight and snow capped mountains like vignette replayed behind his lids. He remembers a fond pat on his head and being lifted up the ground by two strong arms, fond laughter ringing around them.

Jongdae’s eyes snapped open in panic, gaze flickering to Chanyeol’s tear stained face.

The noise of footsteps and bickering caught Chanyeol’s attention and he turned, body immediately in a protective stance.

The smaller of the two stalked close to them, his blond hair like a wisp of golden halo. Sharp eyed and small pink mouth, face the color of tomato. Angry. Jongdae noted in confusion. Very angry. Why was he so angry?

“You’re stupid! We told you countless of times to stay away from these mortals,” the blond thundered at them, his voice carried a tinge of frustration and a ton of accusation. “Now look at the mess you’ve made.”

“Now, now Baekhyun. Lecture him later, I’m sure he already know he’s on the wrong,” the brunette piped up, his voice a soothing timbre of Spring rain. “First things first. We have to clean this up.”

“Tsk! Yixing hyung! Why do you always have a soft spot for this idiot? Can’t you see how foolish he has acted?”

Yixing hyung’s expression darkened and Baekhyun gave a resigned sigh. “Whatever. You’re doing all the talking later.” Baekhyun waved one of his hands in surrender. “Well go on do your stuff.”

“Stop!” Chanyeol suddenly shouted. “D-don’t come any closer.” Jongdae saw him grab a rock the same time Yixing cast his glowing hands down.

“No don’t--”

White light flashed around them and then there was silence. The world fading into a dull grey and his consciousness was lost amidst a loud high pitched scream. The last thing Jongdae remembered was Yixing hyung and Baekhyun’s surprised faces as they peered down at him.

“Oh! The child just-- I… Didn’t expect that.” Yixing pursed his lips. “What are we gonna tell Junmyeon hyung?”

“Tell Junmyeon hyung it’s _his_ fault.”

“Baek.”

“What? It’s the truth.”

 

 

 

 

“Ya! Seriously what were you trying to do?!”

“I was trying to...” Yixing rubbed his cheek, a nervous action whenever faced with Kyungsoo’s intense round black eyes. “I was healing Jongdae.”

“Well this isn’t your nephew.”

“I know that.” A sigh. “He jumped between and got the full brunt of my magic. And uhm...”

A pause.

“Can you save him?”

“I… Maybe. He is of the earth, perhaps. Yes if I use… But I need time to gather everything.”

“Of course. And Kyungsoo, thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet, he might not be human after I finish with him.”

“Just. Just don’t let him die Kyungsoo, Jongdae seems quite fond of this mortal.”

“Tch, always trying to be his best uncle, huh? I don't know why you try Xing, you've always been our little DaeDae’s favorite.”

“After this one I don't think I will be.”

 

 

 

 

Jongdae wakes up to the fading sound of bubbles popping. The bed underneath him was cold and soft, the smooth egyptian cotton of it bearing the hue of pomegranate. Everything hurts. His eyes could barely see and his throat felt as if it had never tasted water for a thousand years.

“Don't move so much.” A voice cautioned him and Jongdae turns to his right, squints his eyes to the blurry seated figure.

Short and pale golden hair, the small sharp eyes and pink small lips in a square smile. Pastel blue fabric embroidered with lilies and cherry blossoms covers the small form.

“Your hair’s shorter… Uncle!?” Jongdae blurts out, eyes widening in fright. “What are you doing here?”

“Close your mouth, fool.” Baekhyun beams at him, lips pulled in a square shape that shows even rows of white teeth. “You should really run away more often.

“What?”

“Oh, wait! Silly me, you haven't heard yet since you’ve been catatonic for a while. The hole in your chest took a long time to close. Six maybe seven mortal years if my estimate is right.” Baekhyun ruffles his hair, hand drifting to pinch one of Jongdae’s cheeks and the scent of cloying chamomile getting stronger. “Junmyeon hyung’s been quite receptive to my persuasion to let you go back to Earth since you love it there so much. You should be thanking me. You're going to return to your boring little hut by the morrow.”

“Wait, what…” Jongdae presses the heel of his hand to his temple. Everything was fuzzy and spinning, the smell of chamomile was drowning him. “U-uncle, where's Cha--”

“Your mortal? Oh you know, he died and Yixing took him to Kyungsoo. But you know how our Kyungie is, he only knows how to handle dirt. Oh wait I guess he is suited for your mortal then. Huh…” In the fogginess of Jongdae’s vision he saw Baekhyun grin once more. “It's good you're up again, have a safe trip going back down to Earth okay? Watch your step.”

“You’re lying. Where's Chanyeol… Where's… Wa-- Uncle plea--”

 

 

 

 

 

“Don't let him die. Please… Father please, I’ll do anything you ask just don't let Chanyeol die.”

“...anything?”

“Anything.”

“Return and do your duty as the god of lightning.”

"I..."

 

 

 

 

 

“You’re not a god now. Well technically you still are, demoted into a minor one. But. You’re still not allowed up there.”

“What do you want?”

“I mean you’re still the heir. His majesty didn't revoke your birthright yet, but you’re in exile right now so--”

“Sehun.”

“What? It's the gossip up there, everyone's been talking about you.”

Jongdae quirks an eyebrow and Sehun huffs.

“Do you regret it, hyung? Coming down here and almost becoming human?”

“No.” Jongdae ruffled Sehun’s hair, he had to tiptoe just to reach it. “Not one bit.”

Sehun merely looked at him, puzzled expression replaced with curiosity. “Is it because of your human?”

“No, not wholly.” Jongdae grins. “But if it wasn't for him I think I wouldn't have stayed and tried. I think, if it wasn't for Chanyeol I wouldn't have been happy here.”

“I don't get it.”

“You’re still young, Sehun-ah.” Jongdae laughs, his cheeks the red of fond delight. “Someday maybe.”

“Speak for yourself you're just a couple century older than me.” Sehun pouts, his arms crossed over his chest. “Anyway, I have news.”

Jongdae felt the smile slip off, brows furrowing in concern. “About?”

“Yixing told me to tell you he'll visit later, your human’s breathing again.”

 

 

 

 

 

“He’s awake.”

“Really? How. How is he? When can I see him--”

“You can't.”

“What do you mean I can’t?”

“Jongdae…”

“What do you mean I can't? You promised uncle. You said you’ll heal him, that Kyungsoo could. You--”

“He can't go back here. Jongdae, your Chanyeol’s not a human anymore.”

“What. What did you do?!” Jongdae lunges, his fingers curling on the blue robes of his uncle and lips curled in a snarl. “What did you do to Chanyeol?!”

“He can't come back, he does not belong here anymore.” Yixing pried of his fingers, eyes clear and words not making any sense. “Kyungsoo tried to heal him but medicine intended for gods have consequences. A mortal’s body can only take in so much magic before it becomes consumed.”

“Where is he?”

“Up there.”

“What?”

“Up. He's probably watching over you now.” Yixing points again above their head to the night sky and Jongdae feels the confusion ebbed into despair.

Above their heads a single star shines bright and twinkled merrily, and Jongdae let the tears he’d been hiding finally fall.

“Dreams do come true, huh? He can see the whole world from up there.” Jongdae murmurs bitterly. There’s  coldness in his bones and acid in his mouth when he looked up at his uncle. “I need to see father.”

 

 

 

 

 

“You can’t just take him--”

“We can.”

“You’re just doing this to punish me!”

“Perhaps. Perhaps not.” Junmyeon steepled his fingers. Cold fury wafting like a tsunami under his blank expression. “We all have a role to play, surely you understand _that?”_

“...Yes.”

“Now then, run along and do what you’re tasked to do.”

“Father..?”

“Yes?”

“W-will I see him again?”

“Perhaps. If he’s lucky, and he seems to be what with all the favor Kyungsoo has been showering him. Quite odd that some tall slip of a creature could make our hermit god running around.” His father looks at him, stern consternation like undulating waves in his small ancient eyes. “You may see him, perhaps, if _you_ do your duty.”

“I… Of course father.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It’s half past noon when Jongdae wakes up. The taste of sweet mead still lingered in the corners of his lips and regrets wafted from the fog of his breath.

Autumn had left, her golden browns and ruby reds draining into a canvas of pale white and milky blue of snow and sky. With her departure, the humidity of afternoons and nippiness of night had fallen to a chilly cape of sleet and occasional icy rain. It’s not a bad season, not a bad winter. Warmth could still be found in every household, especially in Jongdae’s tiny cabin. The supply of timber to burn and preserved food to eat never dwindled as fast as before.

He’s a small man, Jongdae. Small and short with strong shoulders. He was also capable. Dark haired and even darker eyed with the cattiest smile in the village. His thin lips in an odd quirk, curled in a perennial gentility that resembled feline animals’ smile more often than those of humans.

The bright eyed children with their soft tender hearts and sparkling innocence had always greeted him warmly. The tiny flower clad girls and the loud inquisitive boys would run to him every time he went to the market. Their wide eyes filled with questions and their tinkling voices calling out to him as “Mister Jongcat the hunter” or sometimes “Mister Fox.”

Oftentimes he would play with them, when the deer skin and the rabbit meat had been sold early. He would tell them stories after the pelt from his latest kill or knife he’d fashioned from a fang had been met with appreciative inspection and exchanged with a hefty purse of silver. Heavy enough to last him a couple of weeks, but light enough for him to stay rooted in the tiny village. Never spreading his wings, never touching the sky he longed so much to reach.

He was also robust and strong with cherry tinted cheeks the longer he remained outside with only a layer of protection against the cold. One grey rough spun blanket, faded and frayed around the edges. Threadbare piece of cloth with the scent of linseed oil and bergamot long gone, replaced with the odor of old and growing yearning.

Jongdae had one unfailing habit, a pitiful one he never dared to break. Every single day he watched the sunset avidly as if it was the first time he’d seen one. He would drop whatever it was he’s doing to bask in the red purplish glow of the approaching evenfall. He would be doing this while wrapped with the threadbare grey blanket, his small eyes intently focused especially on the star brightly twinkling a little to the left side.

It’s a small star.

Small but bright. It glittered and twinkled every single night for as long as Jongdae remembered. Even through the storm, Jongdae would swear that he could see the tiny light far above him. Twinkling and illuminating something hopeful within Jongdae's chest.

He called the star his Little Chanyeol. An oddly cute name for his odd little star. A memento of a person dearly cherished, one who adored the constellations more than anyone he knew. A name that served as a reminder for the person Jongdae adored and fervently hoped to meet again one day.

That little twinkle in the sky was his self claimed star, for sometimes in his most melancholy moments Jongdae entertained that this dot of light flickered bright just for him.

In the quiet moments of dawn he would remember nights of passion and heat, of stormy days with warmth curled around and behind him. Remembered the promises murmured against another's skin, fingers tracing random patterns of a story, and of a warm mouth leaving indelible marks all over his body. He recalled the taste of citrus on his tongue, the feel of grass tickling his legs, and the weight of someone leaning beside him as the night breeze pass them by. He remembered dearly the emotions, happy and sad, that he felt when he had Chanyeol in his arms.

 

 

 

 

 

“Have you heard of the tale, mister?”

“What tale?”

“The one with the star and the human who fell in love. Mama always tell it to me at bedtime. I think she likes it more than me.” Little hands grabbed one of the sweetmeats and chewed on it happily, his cheeks bulging at the size. “Not that I mind, mama tells it really well. But don’t tell papa I said that, he’ll make fun of me. He said it’s just for girls.”

“Hmm.”

“Do you think it’s true, mister?”

Jongdae tilted his head, fingers still busy stitching the ripped shirt. “I’m sorry Han, I don’t know the story you’re talking about.”

“What? But you’re old! Older than my mama. You should know the story. Oh, it must be because you hide in your cabin all the time that you haven’t heard it.” Luhan’s eyes grew large. They’re brown and full of childish exuberance. “Let me tell you then, it’s magical.”

It’s not. Jongdae mused in secret, mouth curled in faux delighted interest at Luhan’s animated storytelling. It’s a _tragedy._

 

 

 

 

 

The fairy tale was wrong; the story, it goes on like this.

Once upon a time, the god of lightning ran away to be free. He left the riches and power, choosing to come down to the world of humans where he could finally find the happiness he had been seeking. He left his home, Elysion, the realm of the gods for a slim chance of finding the correct path for himself. The path he selfishly wanted to take.

Not all was happy about his choice of course.murmurs and grumbles could be heard, snow fairies turning moisture in the air into frigid blockades and the dragons that reside in the sun breathing harsh upon the news of the lightning god’s often empty seat and unfinished duties. Dissent was loud among the minor gods and sugar coated among the higher tiers.

But ah, gods, they were always the fickle, reckless, and short sighted bunch. Always more interested in their own lives no matter how many eons passed. The god of lightning, upon the knowledge that freedom was within reach and despite the inevitable disaster of his choice, moved eagerly to claim it. Deaf to the murmured warnings of the cautious wind, unheeding of the lurking darkness behind him.

On the day of the lightning god’s escape, his envious youngest uncle, the god of light had been bathed with the red cloud of envious anger. He couldn't understand why his nephew would choose some boring adventure when the throne is just within his reach. The throne was after all, the epicenter of everything the god of light had ever wanted. It was a pity he came to existence last.

The god of light had thrown a tantrum, a misguided vengeance, he locked away the pathway’s guiding light. His action casted an impenetrable darkness upon the link between the two worlds. The lightning god in the middle of his descent and caught off guard was helpless upon such darkness lost his way and fell down.

Down and down he went. Down to the idyllic and monotonous life in Earth. Down to the path of a human as warm as the sun and as beautiful as the moon; and the god of lightning fell in love with this sweet mortal.

It was sweet, it was tragic.

It was _forbidden._

 

 

 

 

 

Somewhere, along the border of the forest, Jongdae is still waiting for Chanyeol to return. But his lucky star is still there, etched to the dark sky, shining brightly, only for him.

That is, until one night, it flickers off and falls to the ground, before his eyes.

Jongdae watches it fall, disbelief and hope warring within him. The little star's light flickers off then flared bright before tapering down to earth. He drops the wood he’s carrying and runs. He doesn't stop, not until he reaches the edge of the crater.

Smoke and a ring of scarlet fire rises from the ruined land. It smells of sulfur and dying plants, like parcels of death wrapped around with stardust and cosmic light.

Jongdae swallows, coughs violently as the smoke enters his lungs. Tears are welling in his eyes, his vision blurring and still he keeps them wide open. Struggling to see beyond the cloud of fumes and fog.

A gust of wind blew, dragging with it the low visibility and Jongdae almost fell over. Ten paces away stands a figure tall, drabbed in the white of silk and confusion on his kind familiar and longed for face.

“Uhm. Hello?” the man greeted him, white hair in a tangled mess of curls and eyes squinted. “Where am I?”

Jongdae swallows the lump on his throat, energy to remain upright draining by the minute.

_Am I dreaming?_

“Hey. Are you alright?” the man asks, almond eyes widening as he slowly approached with one hand outstretched. “You look a little pale. Do y--,” The man touches his face, tilts it to upwards and the concern dies in light of realization dawning like the rising sun. “Oh. It’s you.”

Silence stretches between them. The ring of fire dwindling to embers and the smoke long past. There’s moisture in the air now, the stars hiding behind dense clouds upon the oncoming rain.

“Hello.” Chanyeol calls him again, gently wiping the tears that has unknowingly fallen. “I. Ahaha. Forgive me I’m a little lost on words. I never. I never imagined I’ll be seeing you again.” Chanyeol reaches for his hands, it's big and engulfs his own. Warm and strong and still filled with callouses. Tangible.

 

 

 

 

 

Jongdae stared down at their linked hands. His thumb brushed over Chanyeol's knuckles with familiarity. “I missed you very much,” he muttered.

“Do I need to say I missed you?” Chanyeol grinned cheekily, his dimple peeking out and Jongdae had to squash down the urge to poke it. Had to squash down the urge to pinch himself to make sure he's not dreaming, not hallucinating.

He finally met Chanyeol's eyes again, brown and as bright as before, and found a smile directed at him that warmed him to the very tips of his toes. He missed Chanyeol, he knew, but seeing him this close. To be able to touch, to see, to talk to him, Jongdae felt the steady and heavy weight of his unrealized dreams easing off his shriveled and battered heart. “No.” He murmured, playfulness reaching to his eyes again.

“That's a relief.”

“But I wouldn't mind if you did.” Jongdae smiled back at him for the first time that evening. Chanyeol only pulled him gently against his chest and let his forehead fall to his.

Chanyeol was still smiling when he tilted Jongdae’s chin upwards and kissed him softly. Jongdae thought he preferred this quiet declarations much better, this admittance without words.

The smoke and ash were rising around them while the clouds hid the merrily twinkling skies. In a little bit raindrops will fall, showering the land and snuffing the embers. Jongdae swallows the words, the sentiments he longed to say.

 _I love you,_ Jongdae wanted to profess. _I’ve been waiting for you. All this time. All this years. Only you. Only ever you._ Instead he cups Chanyeol’s face and kissed him deeper.

They have time yet.

 

 

 

 

 

“Welcome back my little star.”

**Author's Note:**

>  **A/N:** I'm not certain if you noticed but i incorporated some facets of greek mythology. The olympians, some allusion to hikoboshi/orihime as well as persephone/hades (I wanted to expand how Chanyeol can only stay on the earth for half the year and the rest he is up in the sky while jongdae remains banished on earth until his father's ire has been tempered but ehehe posting caught up to me, i'm sorry,) stardust by neil gaiman, manga bleach, and the boys mama powers into the overall plot. Also tried to put little nugget cameos of most exo members, I hope someone noticed them. Did you? YoY


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